


Rumba

by Ellie5192



Series: A Little Light Music [28]
Category: Major Crimes (TV)
Genre: F/M, Showers, Smut, and not in that order, and pancakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-28 01:38:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellie5192/pseuds/Ellie5192
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"But this morning with just Andy is lovely and intimate, and she’s not afraid to admit that she could very easily get used to it. In fact, she is used to it; it’s a regular enough thing now that they have breakfast together more often than apart."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rumba

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn’t going to, but then I realised I couldn’t not write the morning after.   
> Written in response to lj prompt “One Step Closer”.

**Warning: chapter rated MA (more sex)**

**Rumba**

 

He wakes up horny and groaning in the back of his throat, still riding on the tail end of a very lovely dream involving a lot of sex with a certain leggy Captain. It takes his brain a moment to catch up- to notice the light behind his eyelids (they did wake with the sun, just like he thought they would); to register the sensation around his cock that confirms without a doubt that his dream is in fact reality. With another (more conscious) groan he opens his eyes and almost comes all over himself right then and there. She’s tucked over his thighs with her mouth around him, naked as a jay-bird and smirking at him from under the duvet.

“Oh sweet Jesus” he gasps, closing his eyes again and throwing his head firmly back into his pillow. She only chuckles and then breaks contact altogether, grinning as she crawls up his body to bring herself level with him. His erection traces along her stomach, hard as a rock and just about ready, and he wishes he could remember more of that dream he was having, because she’s obviously been there a while, and how his subconscious missed that he’ll never know.

“Good morning” she hums at him, laying her body on top of his and kissing him firmly. He wraps his arms around her and holds her still so he can try and do to her mouth only half of what she was doing to other parts of him a few seconds ago.

He can feel her smiling against his lips.

“Took you long enough, sleepyhead” she says when they part.

She’s already manoeuvring on top of him, spreading her legs around him and lining up his cock between her legs. She’s wet and ready. He really wishes he’d been conscious sooner.

“What a wake-up call” he mumbles, kissing her again. She slides a hand down to grasp him, lifts just enough to get their alignment right, and then sinks back down onto him in one firm stroke. They both moan and close their eyes for a moment, and she smiles with contentment.

“Not as good as mine” she says. “Your morning glory was digging into my ass as the sun was rising”

“And you thought the appropriate response would be to put it in your mouth to get it to behave?”

She chuckles at him and shakes her head. They aren’t moving yet, just holding each other and enjoying the moment. It’s not often they get to have early morning wake-up sex, and she’s thoroughly enjoying the opportunity.

“I didn’t think you’d mind” she says with a smirk.

“Oh I don’t mind at all” he confirms, nodding and giving her wide and innocent eyes.

“I would have returned the favour from last night, except I really wanted to end up like this” she says, running her fingertips through the hair at his temple.

His gaze goes from playful to tender in the blink of an eye, and he smiles softly at her as he threads one hand through her hair and then gently rocks his hips up into her. He can hear the honesty of her words; recognises that as much as she’d love to do that for him, there is far more intimacy to be had being like this while they can. He knows they’d need more time and maybe some medicated help to give her the opportunity to do both in one go; he doesn’t begrudge her preference. In fact, he thinks it’s positively endearing. That, and he loves coming inside her as much as she loves him doing it.

“I’m glad, because I like being here just fine” he says, rocking his hips again and running his other hand over her back in light encouragement.

She smiles into another kiss, canting her hips and joining in his easy movement. She hums on the second stroke, a sound of pure contentment, and he feels incredibly proud in that moment. Overwhelmed and happy and so damn _proud_ to be here with her- honoured to be sharing this with her.

“I love you” she says, pulling away to look in his eyes as they continue to rock into one another lazily. “I love this”. There is no rush this morning- dawn has only just arisen, and work has yet to call, and they have all the time in the world.

“Me too. On both counts”

She hums at him, and they don’t say much else, and when they both fly a short while later it’s together and on a breathy moan, not nearly as frenzied as last night. It’s soft, and sweet, and really just enough of an encore to sate them for the day. She thinks if they made love every night like they did last night she’d be exhausted.

She breaths into his neck as they linger in the gentle afterglow of orgasm, relaxed but not drained; the other upside of early morning sex is that they can now spend an entire day enjoying each other’s company with this memory hanging between them. She grins at the thought of blushing later at the office, a sudden visceral memory washing over her as Provenza or Sykes is presenting evidence on a case, or Taylor is calling her in for a brief meeting. Lucky that she has a good poker face.

Andy runs his hands up and down her back and then nudges her side just enough to motivate her to move.

“Hungry?” he asks, caressing her leg as she swings it off him.

“Shower first” she replies. He nods at her back, watching her look over her shoulder at him with a demure little grin. “Care to join me?”

It’s really not much of a question. He throws back the sheets that are tangled around his legs and pounces after her, and she shrieks in delight as he grabs her around the waist and shepherds them through her ensuite door. She giggles- high, girlish giggles that he’s pretty sure only he gets to hear- and allows him to hold her from behind as she turns the faucet. There’s a trick to getting the hot water right that he has yet to master at her place. He doesn’t let her go as they both step under the warm spray, and she hums as he gently runs his fingers through the hair at her temples, and then with his hands embedded in her hair he coaxes her head under the water. He knew she’d wash it today; she wouldn’t have let him get it wet otherwise.

They make quick work of the shower, because they really are hungry, and because as much as they’d like to go again, twice (three times for her, but who’s counting) in twelve hours is asking a bit much, especially for a shower quicky. Still, he enjoys the feeling of soaping up her back and admiring her body for no other reason than he’s allowed to. She likes that they can stand stark naked in front of each other, and it’s neither awkward nor embarrassing; that she doesn’t feel the need to turn away from him, or even blush. In fact, she revels in it; in this feeling of being admired and adored beyond the bedroom. When she palms his soft penis to lightly wash it clean, a shudder runs through him, and it’s almost the most intimate thing she’s ever done.

He gets out first because she still has to condition her hair, and he towel-dries in her bathroom before wrapping it around his waist and heading for the bedroom. He has a spare suit in her wardrobe these days, just in case he ever comes over without his overnight bag in tow. She tries not to analyse what that means, even as she looks at herself in the mirror and starts staring into space. It’s just a suit- he never leaves any teeshirts or track pants or jeans in a draw. Just a suit and a change of underwear, for the rare occasion that they stay late at the office and he hadn’t planned to stay at her place but he also doesn’t have time to go home and grab a bag. It’s just to make sure he doesn’t show up at work wearing the same thing and causing suspicion as he goes.

She knows that’s it’s more than that, though. She knows that it’s the start of a habit that will evolve.

Strangely, she’s okay with it.

She snaps herself out of her reverie and finishes with her hair, wrapping it in a towel when she steps out of the shower and then wrapping herself in another. She had already mentally prepared her outfit for the day while she was shampooing, and though the blouse she wanted to wear is absent (she forgot she sent it to be dry-cleaned in the last batch) she easily finds a replacement. She smiles when she notices that Andy has straightened the room a little while she was alone in the bathroom; her underwear from last night is probably in the laundry basket and the bed is pulled up and made as much as she can be bothered making it today. Her hose are draped carefully over the end of her bed- she thinks he must have checked a second time for any runs or holes. She could almost squeal at how thoughtful he is. She doesn’t, of course, because she’s an adult and mature and squealing over hosiery is so not going to happen.

Still, when she walks out to the kitchen a few minutes later, her hair blowed dried and down, and her legs encased in said hose under a different skirt, she sidles up to his side and turns his head to plant a firm kiss on his lips. He grins at her, and it could be for a million different reasons.  

He’s making them pancakes- she can tell by the flour coating her bench top that they’re from scratch- and she thinks that she could really get used to mornings like this one. His jacket is resting on the back of one of the dining chairs, his shirt sleeves are rolled to the elbow, and somehow he managed to dig up one of her aprons- a red and blue striped one that is decent enough but still clashed with his suit. She thinks he looks adorable.

“Smells good” she croons, leaning over to look in the pan and see how big he’s making them. Skipping dinner last night has left her in the mood for a big breakfast, and though she never usually eats more than one pancake, and Andy shouldn’t really be having them while he’s on his diet, she thinks this one treat can’t hurt.

“How many for you?” he asks, flipping over the first batch in the pan. They’re not very big, and thinner than she usually makes them.

“Three” she answers with a nod. Why not, she thinks to herself. “Do you want syrup or lemon and sugar?” she asks, stepping up to the pantry.

“Whatever you’re having”

She smirks at his back and then collects a fresh lemon from the fruit bowl and the sugar bowl from next to the kettle. He notices her choice and gives a little nod, happy enough with that arrangement.

They really are getting very good at this domesticity thing.

“Come closer” he ushers, turning to gesture at her with the spatula. Dignified pattern or no, the image of him in an apron from this angle looks utterly ridiculous, and she lets out a little chuckle as she takes a single step towards him. “A little more” he coaxes.

“Andy” she says, half a question and half a warning. She’s not sure what he’s up to.

“One step closer, come on”

She obeys with a critical eye, standing right next to him.

“Close your eyes” he says.

She gives him a look before she dutifully obeys.

“Open”

She smirks before parting her lips just a little, not quite sure what he’s playing at. Then she feels the unmistakable juice of fruit on her lips, and the sweetness that accompanies it is heaven, and a moment later she’s chewing into a sliced half of strawberry, moaning around the flavour. She opens her eyes and sees him grinning at her, and she smiles back and kisses him, deliberately running her tongue in his mouth to share her joy.

“Where on earth did they come from?” she asks, picking another half out of the small bowl he has cut up, half hidden behind her cookbook stand. She knows he didn’t bring them with him last night.

“I brought them over the other night-“

“With the lasagne?”

“Yep. Hid it in the bottom of your crisper. I’m surprised you didn’t find them”

He’s still grinning, obviously proud of himself, and she grins right back, pecking his lips once more in thanks. “I guess I haven’t looked in my crisper for the past two days”

She grabs the bowl of strawberries and takes them to the table as well, sneaking another half as she goes- she loves mango season, but strawberries are definitely her favourite.

They sit and eat their pancakes in relative silence, smiling at each other occasionally. She misses Rusty- rarely does she have a morning when he’s not with her, and as a general rule never a school day. But this morning with just Andy is lovely and intimate, and she’s not afraid to admit that she could very easily get used to it. In fact, she is used to it; it’s a regular enough thing now that they have breakfast together more often than apart. That thought doesn’t overwhelm her the way it might have when they first got together. He has become such a permanent fixture that she thinks she’d be bereft without him; she stopped feeling like there was an extra body around months ago.

She’s stacking the dishwasher when he pulls her close to him, swaying her side to side.

“What are you doing?” she asks, falling into step with him anyway.

“Dancing”

“We have to get to work” she reminds him lightly. Their very early morning has left her with a warped sense of time; the languid pace of getting ready has not felt like a weekday, and she has to remind herself that they are not working to their own schedules.

“We have time enough to dance for just a minute, you and me” he replies. “I promised to do this every day, and have been very slack”

“You never promised that” she says with a wide grin, her eyes shining with affection. “I would have remembered”

“Didn’t I? Hmm. Must have just made a mental note” he shrugs, still leading her in silly circles, not quite on a beat.

“To waltz around my kitchen?”

“To dance with you every day for the rest of my life”

She almost audibly gasps at his look, as he meets her eye and holds it. It’s as much a vow as it is a pledge; a promise that he intends to keep, and a tangible spoken notion that he plans to be around for as long as she’ll have him. They have always been careful not to put specifics and timeframes on this, but after Nicole’s wedding and their somewhat mutual confession that if marriage was an option that’s where they’d be headed, it’s hard not to. It’s hard not to be in these moments- these mornings like this one and many others before it- and not see the rest of their days lived happily, side by side. She thinks of the rules, and of the many reasons why this is a bad idea. She thinks of her husband, who for the moment is a permanent shadow over her shoulder. She thinks of Rusty, and the precarious position the boy is in until all this trial mess is dealt with.

And then she thinks of Taylor, and of Provenza’s not-so-subtle suggestion that the rules really aren’t as stagnant as she believed. She thinks of how easy it was to tell Broward to back off without reproach, favour or not. She thinks that they could, with some time, become the worst-kept secret at Central.

The thought makes her smile. If only her younger, idealistic self could see her now, literally screwing the rules to hell and back. She’s almost proud of herself.

“You keep feeding me those pancakes and we’ll have to” she says instead.

“What, as payment?”

“No, as calorie control”

He laughs at her and pecks her lips, then reluctantly stops their gentle swaying. “I’d love you even if you were a whale” he says.

She hits his chest and steps away with a playful smirk, finishing her task at the dishwasher as he gathers the pan and places it the sink with some hot water to soak. He saunters back around to the kitchen table. “Come on fatty, time to get to work”

“Hey” she barks, appalled and amused and completely taken by surprise. He swings his arms into his jacket as he smirks at her, and then disappears around the corner to go collect his wallet, keys and phone from her dresser.

“You’re the boss, you can’t be late” he calls.

“That’s right I am the boss” she starts as she follows him, grabbing her phone and keys from the front door sideboard and throwing them in her handbag before swinging into her own suit jacket. He appears again by her side. “And you better remember that next time you go insulting me- I could have your ass for that Flynn”

He grins and opens the front door for her.  “Baby, you have my ass anyway, what makes today any different”  

“Good god, please don’t tell me my new nickname is ‘baby’, I think I’d have to defenestrate myself-”

The door closes behind them and they walk side by side down the hall, bantering all the while. They may one day be the worst-kept secret, but that doesn’t mean she wants to parade on in to work making googly eyes today. And if they’re now coming out of their honeymoon phase, and enjoy the feeling of riffing on each other, that’s okay too.

After all, they’re in this for the long haul; she might as well make her feelings on certain nicknames be known now.

**Author's Note:**

> This is, I’m sorry to say, the penultimate chapter of this story. I may revisit this universe in one-shots, or perhaps even a sequel related to the second half of season 2. But I’m certainly not done with these two- I love them too much to say goodbye forever.   
> As always, a heartfelt thanks to all my readers and reviewers. I hope you enjoyed this latest instalment.


End file.
